Murder in the Forest: the Bigfoot Killings
by Gemini Explorer
Summary: The BAU is summoned to Washington to investigate murders alleged to have been committed by Bigfoot/Sasquatch. Seaver is attracted to a deputy whom Morgan resents. Can they save an abductee, catch the criminals, and rescue a colleague from the forest? Will an agent find love as she avoids a rogue bear? Meet new characters.
1. Chapter 1

**Introduction:** I have previously written fan fiction only for another show, _The Lost_ _World._ But I watch, _Criminal Minds_ and it attracted me as a possible outlet for fics. The first chapter is long because I just learned on Jan. 2, 2015, how to add conventional chapters. My earlier fics had internal chapter headings in some cases, but posted as one long story.

Why a Bigfoot mystery? I was watching an amusing TV show that purports to pursue this legendary beast when it occurred to me that Bigfoot might become a suspect in murders. I have been a student of Bigfoot/Sasquatch and other cryptozoological creatures for years, and they intrigue me. I wrote a fic in, _The Lost World_ stories about the explorers encountering the legendary Nandi Bear in British colonial Kenya, if that might interest anyone here. It's a Mature-Rated fic, as are almost all of mine. The title for that tale is, _Mem'Sahib Bunduki and the Nandi Bear._

So much for background... Ashley Seaver is back, as I needed an unmarried female agent. And one of the local sheriff's deputies in this fic catches her eye. Will he also catch her heart? BTW, OC Peter Blacklaws is a descendant of Geoffrey Blacklaws, an original character in my _Lost World_ safari-based fics. Peter has immigrated to the USA and is now a senior deputy and a former winemaker. He is a hunter of both men and beasts. He has hunted women a lot along the way, too, and the blonde agent attracts him. Will she share a bed and her emotions with him? Will they determine who has committed The Bigfoot Killings, or will they die trying? Read on…

_Be advised that this is a Mature story, containing sexual activity, violence, female bondage, and perhaps some adult language. It is no more explicit than many bestselling mystery novels, but it is not a child's tale, either. Read accordingly. All characters not from the show are my own creations or are public figures used fictionally or involved in incidents that are a matter of open record._ Thanks are expressed to the rights holders for being able to publish fan fiction about this show. Obviously, the show and the core characters are their creations. Original characters are my own. No resemblance is intended to actual persons other than references to public or historic figures who are used fictitiously, as are the core cast characters. There is no Meriwether county in Washington. There is a Lewis county, but I wanted a fictional county for this story that would honor the memory of Capt. Meriwether Lewis.

_Special thanks to Sweda for help in learning to post chapters._

**Murder in the Forest: the Bigfoot Killings**

By

Gemini Explorer

_ "He who does not punish evil commands it to be done." Leonardo da Vinci__  
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CHAPTER ONE

Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit Chief, Quantico, VA, looked around the room. He sipped his coffee, grateful for the superb Columbian Supremo blend that fellow agent David Rossi had brought and brewed for them to show how much better coffee could be than what they usually made in their office.

Hotchner finished reviewing his notes and closed his folder. He looked around and missed two of his agents. "What became of Reid and Seaver?" he asked.

SSA Derek Morgan jerked a thumb toward an exit that led down the hall. "They went to the cafeteria. Reid said that the coffee was so good that he wanted a Danish to go with it, and Ashley joined him. They like that stuff, Dave. You oughta bring it more often. We deserve to become spoiled."

"We need to begin shortly," said Hotchner, mildly miffed at the absence of two of their number who should have realized that he was almost ready to open the briefing session. He was mollified as the truants entered the room, talking happily.

"Hey, we brought rolls and donuts for everyone," said SSA Spencer Reid as he and SA Ashley Seaver set down large white boxes on a side table.

Hotchner rolled his eyes, but said nothing as everyone moved to seize a share of this unexpected largesse. He knew the value of high morale, especially in view of the morbid nature of their assignments, and let it slide that he had to hold off a little longer on opening the session. His tolerance was further extended when SSA Jennifer Jareau brought him one of the Danish rolls, a particularly succulent looking one with yellow icing and pecans and raisins on top. Rossi strolled over with the coffee pot, and Hotchner sighed and resigned himself to a few more minutes of small talk and eating.

Penelope Garcia breezed in from her computer room, files and a flash drive in hand. It was a Monday and she had not been in the room earlier and was surprised to see Special Agent Seaver, who normally worked human trafficking cases for the Bureau although she had been with the BAU a couple of years before.

"Ashley!" she exclaimed as she set down her supplies and made a beeline for the refreshments. "What are you doing here? Hear that Dave brought some really good coffee? Derek called me about it and I could hardly wait to get my stuff together and get in here and try it."

Hotchner looked up from his pastry and said, "We have a vacancy due to Alex's promotion and I asked Agent Seaver to fill in until a replacement can be found. That should take only a few weeks. Assistant Director Diefenbaker and I have several candidates from other divisions in mind, but we're still mulling over choices and looking at applicants who've been waiting to get into this unit. I want us to be at full strength until we fill that vacancy, so I called Seaver this weekend, and arranged for her to join us for a time."

"And that's about the size of it," said Morgan, smirking. "At least, that's how Joe Friday summed things up on, _Dragnet_." Everyone groaned and resumed conversations for some 15 minutes, until Hotchner decided to call the group of profilers to order.

Finally, he rose and said, "Ladies and gentlemen – and you, too, Agent Morgan- I'm sorry to put a damper on your usual Monday morning enthusiasm. But we have a new case that I think needs to take priority over those that we've been working. It has some unusual elements and the agency that requested our assistance says they need to avoid public panic due to one particular aspect of the case. That aspect is, and I'm dead serious, that a primary suspect in this case is, uh, Bigfoot. Or, if you prefer, Sasquatch."

He held up a hand to quiet the barrage of disbelieving comments and lifted eyebrows.

"This case comes to us from the Sheriff of Elk Pass, Washington. That's in Meriwether County. Yes, that's named for Meriwether Lewis, as in the Lewis & Clark Expedition.

"The sheriff is named Grant Ford and it is significant that he was once with Los Angeles PD, where he worked for several years with Asst. Director Diefenbaker, to whom I now report on BAU cases. These men were also in college together, and Mr. Diefenbaker has asked us to look at this case. I think everyone here understands that if he "wishes" for us to take a case, we take it. This is like military generals "wishing" for things. It's basically an order. So, no discussion, please. We _will _take this case and we _will_ solve it, whoever the perpetrator is. My feeling is that it is not going to be a large ape that has been killing these unfortunate Washington citizens.

"Now, if you look at the display onscreen, you can see Sheriff Ford, in his official photo. Nice looking man, tall, blonde, intelligent, and Diefenbaker assures me that he is both well trained and thorough. The sheriff has attended our National Academy for police officers not members of the Bureau. He has an excellent record, and seems popular. He's won election for four terms now and his department has a good record for solving crimes. He is not, I'm told, credulous or naïve. If he says that Bigfoot is a factor, we need not to laugh and to keep an open mind. However, before some of you sneer too much, it is not the sheriff who claims that people are being murdered by an errant Sasquatch. In fact, he agrees with the M.E. that the victims were probably slain by fellow humans. But because certain 'sign' has been found near the victims' bodies that suggests that a large primate killed them, the press and some of the more gullible members of the public have started speculation that it's that celebrated, elusive, giant ape-man that has committed these crimes."

Rossi interrupted. "Aaron, before we progress, can we see the victims and hear what the examiner really thinks? I suspect that that may cut through a lot of innuendo and speculation."

"Coming right up," agreed Hotchner. "Garcia, may we see the next picture: the photos of the victims?"

"Of all the things I do here, I think showing these poor people who died to slake the lusts of some madman is the hardest," said Garcia. "However, here they are. " And she clicked a remote control and photos of eight persons, three male, appeared on the monitor.

"Look at it this way" said Reid. "Seeing our presentations here is where justice begins for these victims. And sometimes, we even save living ones." He looked sympathetically at their computer marvel.

"What had you rather do: run the computers or go out with us and look at these dead people in person?" asked Hotchner. "I can assure you, they smell better onscreen than in person." Garcia's lack of fortitude occasionally got to him and he had had a fight that morning with his girlfriend and wasn't happy about Asst. Director Diefenbaker using his influence to send the team after a suspect who was seriously being mistaken by some people for a mythical animal. Hotchner knew that if the Asst. Director wasn't an old chum of the local sheriff, they wouldn't have had to drop other urgent cases and proceed on this one.

"Hotch…" began Jennifer Jareau.

"All right: I'm a little short tempered this morning. Personal issues. I'll get over them. Go ahead, Garcia. But keep in mind that you have the least involvement with victims. Sometimes, the stress of dealing with the aftermath of their deaths can lead to burnout. I'm surprised that we all handle matters as well as we do."

Without further comment, the plump blonde computer whiz gestured to the screen and Hotchner resumed his narration. He decided to overlook Morgan's sliding a gold-wrapped Swiss chocolate down the table to Garcia, presumably to boost her mood..

"Now, of the eight victims whose likenesses you see here, three are men. They range in age from 19 to 42. They have no discernible connection, although all were from affluent families and had led most of their lives in the area. We have one man with longish brown hair, one with curly black hair, and one who was virtually bald. Ethnically, one was of Mediterranean ancestry, specifically Greek, and the other two were Anglo.

"Turning to the women, you see a more distinct pattern. All five were Anglos, with blonde or light brown hair and light eyes. Looking at the screen – enlarge the faces, please, Garcia- you see three with blue eyes and one with green. All were quite attractive and were about the same height, five feet seven or within an inch or two either way. Now, either Bigfoot is fonder of Nordic- looking women than I'd realized or we have a human killer who is targeting women who fit this profile. And the ages are within a narrow range: from 18 to 26. The men have no connection with the women except that Ned Miller, the youngest man, disappeared after joining a search party to look for Linda Cameron, the 18year-old girl. They were both students and were dating at Meriwether County Junior College."

"How often have the bodies been turning up?" asked a thoughtful Rossi. "Was Miller's body found with Cameron's or nearby?"

Hotchner said," Good point, Dave. Those two disappeared at nearly the same time, within three days, but his body was found just two days after he vanished. Hers wasn't discovered for another two and a half weeks. The others were spaced over two to three weeks, but the men's bodies were more weathered and had been fed on by scavengers. Probably, they had been dumped for a longer time before being found. It is significant that none of the women's remains showed major decline, and were probably discovered within a day or two of being dumped. Animals had been at most of the bodies, but more so on the men. But each woman was gone for at least two weeks before being found, and when found, she was not ravaged as much as if she'd been out for that length of time."

Reid raised a hand. "Are you saying that the women seem to have been held somewhere for a couple or more weeks before being killed and then left out in the open?"

"Give the boy genius a prize," quipped Morgan, sliding one of the chocolates to Reid, who accepted it with surprise and pleasure.

Jareau raised a hand. "Were the women raped, or are there other signs of abuse? If raped, was there semen, presumably not that from a Sasquatch, although I don't suppose we really have any comparison samples in the case of the ape-man?"

Hotchner told her that she had a good question and that all of the women showed signs of sexual activity. "But no semen traces were recovered. The M.E. out there theorizes that they were raped or compelled to submit, but that prophylactic rubbers were used. Whoever had them was being careful. No fingerprints, either. He was of the opinion that the corpses were washed off and found traces of soap on one woman. Alcohol may also have been used, but he has only a suspicion, and the odor was long gone by the time he saw the bodies, of course. There were no defensive skin scrapings under the women's fingernails. They had clothing on them or torn off by some large assailant, but he was pretty sure that the bodies had been dressed after death, having been nude for some of their captivity. The M.E. has a grim sense of humor. He noted in his report that dressing female victims is an unlikely act for Bigfoot, nor are those animals likely to employ latex condoms. He therefore feels that the murders are inconsistent with the way that a Bigfoot would kill, despite tracks left beside the victims and the violence with which some limbs were wrested off of or nearly off of some victims."

"Wonder if Bigfoot does use condoms?" razzed Morgan. "Man, they barely make those things big enough for me. Stores out there probably have to order outsized ones for Bigfoot. They may just be out of stock now. Maybe we can find his condom dealer. He'd stand out as a customer."

Hotchner rolled his eyes and everyone else groaned. Jareau wadded up a candy wrapper and threw it at Morgan. Garcia and Seaver snickered.

Hotchner called for the next photo. "This is Melissa Winters. She was reported missing a week ago, and may be in the hands of the killer or killers. She's 18, blonde, very attractive, and a popular girl at the same junior college. But she wasn't close to the two dead students from that school. We don't know yet if she's a victim or just ran away from home. But her parents say that that would be out of character. She's always been a trustworthy girl, not rebellious or flighty. No known record of involvement with drugs. Wasn't dating any boys in particular, but the sheriff has been talking to all of her known friends. And they're checking to see if she may have been hospitalized anywhere or fallen in a river, etc. So far, they've drawn a blank, and it doesn't look good."

After some additional discussion that basically added little to what they knew, Hotchner announced that they'd meet at the plane in an hour.

"Clear your desks and get together whatever you need besides your Go bags and we'll take a shuttle to the plane. We're lucky; we drew the newer Gulfstream 550 for this trip. It has a range of 6,300 miles, so we should be able to fly straight out there without having to refuel _en route._ It's still going to be a long trip. The max speed is 600 MPH, but for fuel economy and to avoid excess wear on the aircraft, the pilots don't want to travel at full throttle unless there's an urgent need.

"I don't think there's anything to this Bigfoot angle, but on Mr. Diefenbaker's recommendation, we'll take a few 10mm H-K semi-auto carbines and a couple of rifles, just in case. Shotguns, we'll draw from the armory at the Seattle field office and they'll pack some boxes of slug loads for us. Those should stop any animal we might encounter, bears included."

JJ looked nervous. "They have bears there? For real? Please tell me that you're just trying to scare us."

"They have bears," confirmed Rossi. "And elk, deer, cougars, and other animals that you'd expect in a rural region in Washington state. I think they even have rattlesnakes. But you're a bold special agent of the finest law enforcement organization in the world. I can say that with impunity because there aren't any Texas Rangers or Canadian Mounties here to argue the point. But seriously, JJ, we'll protect you. Or, just show any aggressive bears your 'creds'. Tell them that you're from the IRS. That'll scare anyone. The bear will run away."

There was general laughter, and Jareau threw another candy wrapper at the bearded Italian-American agent.

"Very funny," she said. "Dave, I really am a little afraid of the woods. But I'll do my job. I just want someone to stay with me and carry a rifle if we do get out in the sticks to view a body or something. The only bear that I want to see is Smokey, on TV or a Forest Service billboard."

Hotchner wanted to return to the mission. "We'll order sandwiches or pizza; whatever you want, and have it delivered to the plane. We'll eat in the air. The refrigerator will have the usual soft drinks and candy bars, etc. Does anyone have any other questions?"

"Can I order fried chicken?" wondered Seaver. "I'm really hungry. I got off without breakfast today."

Hotchner tried not to look impatient. "Yes, JJ will tell you where to order from. Actually, the cafeteria can probably provide that in a flight lunch. Now, if no one else has any profound comments, it's wheels up in an hour."

XXX

Once in the air, they settled down to eating and to discussing the case and various personal matters. And other cases were also discussed, some having what many thought to have at least as high priority as this Bigfoot nonsense.

"But don't resent being sent to Washington," Hotchner reminded them. "There is a serial killer out there, and this latest missing girl's life may well be in urgent danger. The sooner we solve this case, the better. And the better we'll look to the Assistant Director. If Diefenbaker likes how we deal with this, it may get us some added slack in other areas.

"I'm doing next year's budget soon, and the better we look, the more I can hope to get allocated for our operation."

"How far is it out there?" asked Seaver. "Seattle is at the other end of the country from us unless you count Hawaii. Can I get a nap, or is it closer by air than I think?"

"Actually, the physical distance showed at 2,716.9 miles when I checked," said Dr. Spencer Reid. "But with headwinds, we may go slower than expected airspeed, or with a good tail wind, faster. Either way, you should be able to grab a nap."

"Look at the bright side," suggested Rossi. "Maybe we can get fresh salmon out there. Seattle has some impressive fresh fish markets and they have other great food there, too."

Jareau snorted. "With our luck and the need for speed in getting to Elk Pass, we'll probably find the SUV's we get stocked with Spam and beans."

"I'll try to set time aside for a little shopping and a decent meal or two in Seattle after we solve the case," said Hotchner. "We've been running full steam ahead lately. I think we can arrange to stay there for a day or two while we file our reports. Let's just try to catch whoever is killing these people, fast. I can't help thinking that we're probably Melissa Winters's best hope, if she's still alive."

XXX

Some six hours later, they were alerted by the pilot to watch for the skyline of a rapidly approaching Seattle. It was still daylight, because they had been flying west.

"Oh, that's beautiful!" exclaimed Ashley Seaver.

"But look at how their tall buildings are so close to the ocean," mulled Reid. "If they ever have hurricanes out here, they're at tremendous risk of astronomical loss. And I wouldn't want to live on those San Juan islands if a storm came. But Sydney has buildings close to the water like that."

"I bet that you can see into Canada from that tower," opined "JJ" Jareau.

"Now that you mention Canada," teased Rossi, "I think they mainly have just black bears here in Washington, although they have some big ones. But I bet an occasional grizzly comes down from British Columbia or across from Montana. We might see one of those grizzlies. Wouldn't that be swell?"

"Dave, shut up," pleaded Jareau. "You're just trying to scare me."

"Best eat your spinach and be afraid of nothing," razzed Morgan. "Hey, that works for Popeye. Seriously, I bet they have more black bears out here than they have black people."

"Will you two PLEASE quit talking about bears!" snapped JJ.

**CHAPTER TWO** (NOTE: This was originally Chapter 2. But when I learned to post in normal chapters, I had to post the next one as Chapter Two, also. Sorry for any confusion.)

After landing, they were introduced to the Special Agent in Charge (SAC) of the Seattle field office, who expressed interest in the case. He had three vehicles ready for them: a long black Suburban and two shorter SUV's, all equipped with camping supplies and shotguns as well as compact Motorola radios for all team members.

"I'm also supplying you with a driver who is familiar with getting around up there in the mountains near Elk Pass," added the SAC, whose name was Phillip Gaines.

"That won't be necessary," said Hotchner, fearing that the real motive for this driver and guide was to plant a spy in their group. Either the SAC or Asst. Director Diefenbaker had probably thought of this idea. Like his predecessor, Strauss, Diefenbaker was a little suspicious of such independent units within the Bureau and liked to be assured that he knew what they were doing at any given time. In turn, they tried to avoid staid procedures and operate as they saw fit within general guidelines. Often, they adopted unconventional procedures if that was what it took to apprehend a serial killer.

"Look," said Gaines. "Asst. Director Diefenbaker asked me to be sure that you had an experienced guide. The roads up there can be confusing or even hazardous, especially if you have to go on remote dirt paths. The guy I'm loaning you is Bill Waters. He's a hunter and a hiker and camper. He'll be good for technical advice, to keep you safe. Let him ride in the front vehicle, and he'll signal you if anything unusual is ahead. And he's not there just to snoop. We realize that you need some leeway to develop leads and talk to witnesses. The idea here is not to insist on rigorous enforcement of Bureau guidelines. We just want this murderer caught, and the sooner, the better. But you may need Bill to help smooth over any ruffled feathers with the local sheriff, if that becomes an issue. Bill is a good man and I told him to help, and not to conduct discrete espionage for anyone in the other Washington office; the D.C. one."

Hotchner saw where practicality lay and thanked Gaines for his consideration.

In view of the late hour, they checked into a motel and had dinner together as they planned. Everyone was relieved to find that Waters seemed like a good agent and he had entertaining accounts of local cases and was possessed of a wry wit that amused everyone.

They agreed to meet in the motel coffee shop at 8:00AM for breakfast, and then to begin their journey east, over a range of the Rockies.

No one reported any problems the next day except for Jareau, who complained of a nightmare involving a bear. Waters noticed that this amused Rossi and Morgan.

On this note, they loaded the vehicles and headed out of Seattle, for whatever experiences awaited them in the forests around Elk Pass. Bigfoot or not, the BAU was en route to solving some murders!

XXX

The road was long, although nothing eventful occurred. However, at one point, they paused to allow a bull elk to cross the road. The BAU team was impressed, most not having seen an elk except in a zoo and that long past. The magnificent animal inspired awe in all, and some fear in a couple.

"Are those things dangerous?" wondered Reid. "They're so big, and those antlers look like a man's dream of phallic significance projection."

Waters laughed. "Yeah, they can be formidable, especially during the rut. We have a sub-species of elk in some Washington coastal forests, called the Roosevelt elk. They're even more imposing than most. They could stomp a car with those big hooves. Actually, moose have done just that. But unless you run across one on foot when it's really mad at a rival or just at the world, you probably won't be molested. The potential is sure there, and even ordinary deer sometimes attack people with grim results. But that's generally when some fool who's seen too much cute animal junk on TV tries to feed them or pet them. Some fools tolerate them around their houses where they eat the garden vegetables or other forage and then some ninny wants to play with them. That can end badly. Happens every year, in probably every US state. But elk seldom damage people. Most leave them alone.

"As for Agent Jareau's concern about bears… now, that's really valid. Generally, a black bear that sees you in the woods will run off. But some don't. And most truly predatory bear attacks are by black bears. I've studied this stuff for years and have examined many attacks, and if the goal is to stalk and eat you, a black bear is the more likely culprit. For one thing, they're in most states, while we have grizzlies in only a few. And a lot in Canada, of course, and Alaska has many. But grizzlies are rare here. Probably visitors from Canada. British Columbia is just north of the Washington border, after all, and a bear has no idea of international boundaries. By the way, British Columbia also has cougars and has more attacks than any other Canadian province or any US state. But we have cougars here, too, and attacks all over North America are increasing. Frankly, I'm as much or more concerned about cougars than I am about bears."

Jareau shuddered and she and Seaver looked thoughtfully at one another.

XXX

It was 3:00PM by the time they reached the sheriff's office in Elk Pass. The team was greeted by Undersheriff John Knowles, who explained that the sheriff was speaking that afternoon at the Lions Club.

"He'll probably have to field some questions about these Bigfoot killings. I think he'll tell the Lions members and the media that you're expected. We have to look as if we're doing something, and there's another girl gone missing as of last night. Her parents are very concerned."

Hotchner grimaced. "I'd rather that our arrival wasn't publicized. We aren't here for publicity. We'd rather work quietly to assess the evidence and see what profile we can offer. If the offender knows that we're here, it could cause him to alter his behavior or even go to ground and hide until we leave. In a worst case scenario, it may even accelerate abductions and murders."

The Undersheriff shrugged. "It was a tradeoff, and word of your being here would probably leak out. Still, I see your point and I'm sorry that it may be a problem. Look, I want to show you to a room we've set up for your team and introduce you to a few of our key people. Then, we'll take you to lunch at one of the best restaurants in town at the sheriff's expense. Of course, we'll find a way to charge it off as a business expense, so please don't feel embarrassed or hesitant to accept. We'll get a private room there or a remote section so we can discuss the case. But I know that you haven't eaten and neither have several of us here in the office, and it'll be a good opportunity to get acquainted and share info. And I don't think you'll find a better steak in the state than what we'll get there."

"Sounds as if it might beat Federal Building cafeteria lasagna at that," observed Rossi.

Waters laughed. "There's no Federal Building here, anyway, and it's probably a plus. John here is telling the truth: the local ranchers raise some excellent beef. And I've worked with John a few times on other cases. We're in good hands if he says this place sets a good table. By the way, he's a hell of a trout fisherman. He put me in a place last year where I caught a steelhead that weighed 17 pounds. That's a good fish to be this far upriver from the coast. The browns, cutthroats, and rainbows here get to a good size, too, especially in Whittington Lake. "

"Man, I don't think we're gonna have time to fish. That's a hell of a way to waste time, anyway." Morgan was not impressed and he was miffed over the gaffe about their arrival being made public.

Knowles studied the black agent carefully. "Don't sell fishing short, Agent. The poet Omar Khayyam said that God does not detract from the sum of Man's days those hours that he spends in fishing. It's very therapeutic, and this is a stressful job. And I think that fly-fishing for trout is the ultimate expression of the angler's art. Not that any of us will be going fishing until this case is solved. But if you want to come back here later on vacation, I'd be happy to show you our better waters."

Rossi was amused. "A lawman and a philosopher. And a man who appreciates a good steak! I think I'm going to enjoy being here more than I expected."

"I think we'd better see this room and get set up," said Hotchner. "Then, we'll be honored to accept your hospitality. I'm sure that we're all hungry, and we need to be briefed on your latest abduction, if that's what it is."

"Uh, Mr. Knowles… do you have bears near town? Could a bear have been what killed any of these victims and made some imaginative people think it was a Bigfoot?" Jareau still had bears on her mind.

"Yes, ma'am, we've considered that. I'll be happy to discuss that angle at lunch and you're about to meet a biologist who can address that question with genuine expertise."

Seaver patted Jareau on the shoulder. "Don't worry, JJ. We'll save you if a bear breaks into the restaurant."

Knowles looked puzzled, and then smiled. "A little concerned about bears, Agent Jareau?"

Hotchner rolled his eyes and gestured to the undersheriff to lead them to their operations room. He noticed that Waters, Rossi, and Morgan grinned at Jareau, who stuck out her tongue at them. He decided to speak to certain agents about this bear thing. Fun was fun, but this might Embarrass the Bureau if it got out of hand. On the plus side, at least the local authorities were more than the relative bumpkins that he'd half expected. Knowles was the first lawman whom he'd heard quote Omar Khayyam or any other poet. And a good steak at the expense of the local sheriff did sound very attractive. It certainly beat having hamburgers and greasy fries somewhere, sticking to the _per diem_ meal allowance from the Bureau…

XXX

They were soon seated in a quite nice restaurant called Steaks and More. It was somewhat rustic in décor, with knotty pine walls adorned with mounted game heads and colorful Indian blankets. A cheery fireplace enhanced a stone wall in the bar. The Undersheriff called over the manager, whom he knew well, and asked if the group might have use of one of the two private rooms. "We have some outside consultants with us and need privacy to discuss a case," he explained.

The manager readily agreed and called over some bus boys and had them shove three tables together in the closer reserved room and assigned waitresses to attend the diners.

Everyone commented positively on the décor, other than Morgan and Jareau, neither of whom was fond of seeing the mounted heads of wild animals. The others could take or leave that and were aware that it was a frequent decorative theme in buildings in western states. They were, after all, far from the BAU's preferred stomping grounds in the District of Columbia or New York City. Hotchner reminded himself that many people from the West detested the eastern seaboard states north of Virginia and he resolved to be diplomatic.

He smiled as he noticed Jareau look at a full mount of a bear rug on the wall and take a chair that left her back to that display. Seaver and Rossi grinned. A tall deputy also saw and looked puzzled. Hotchner had seen him looking at Seaver as they waited for tables and recalled that he had also done so back at the sheriff's office. He shrugged mentally. What the hell...Ashley Seaver drew male attention. It didn't mean that she wouldn't be accepted as a professional just because she attracted men. In fact, he might be able to use that to his advantage as they interfaced with local officers. He made a note to see if that was something that he could exploit.

As they were getting settled in and starting to talk, they were interrupted by the arrival of Sheriff Ford and another man, whom he introduced as a biologist with the US Fish and Wildlife Service.

"This is Christaan van Reenan," the sheriff related, "and he mostly deals with bears, cougars, and other large predatory animals, especially bears. But he's as qualified as anyone we've got when it comes to knowing about Bigfoot. He's read most of the literature about the species and he knows pongids and other big apes well enough to tell if he's looking at their fur or footprints. Maybe we'd better hear from Chris before we get into the details of these deaths. Chris? You're on stage!"

But van Reenan was delayed by the arrival of the waitress who took his and Grant Ford's orders: steaks, potatoes ,and broccoli with garden salads for both men. Ford ordered coffee, and van Reenan agreed.

That accomplished, Jareau asked what a pongid was. "Is it some kind of ape?"

"Yes, quite. Specifically, it just means gorillas. But I have the ability to detect other great apes, and none has shown enough similarity with the presumed Bigfoot or Sasquatch to be confused. The sole hair attributed to this creature of which I'm aware was submitted to the Army CID lab many years ago, and they found no match to any known animal. Does that confirm that it was from a Sasquatch? It only means that they were unable to identify what it was. Might it have been from Bigfoot? Ja, but who knows? Without more Bigfoot-confirmed hairs, who can say? But in this case, we have no hairs to process."

Rossi stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Is there really anything at all to suggest involvement of a Bigfoot other than some alleged tracks? Can you determine if those were fake? I'd certainly think so."

The scientist looked speculatively at the agent and replied, "Well, in the main, you are correct. Some of the tracks we've seen are from the same set of feet, and frankly, I think they're phony. I can go into greater detail if you like, although that would probably bore anyone but a scientist. What probably will interest you is that the tracks do show sophistication. Someone knows the approximate dimensions and weight distribution likely for such an animal, probably standing from eight to nine feet tall and weighing some 350 pounds, maybe more. That's significant in itself, for the public would muff it if they tried to guess such things. A movie made about a Bigfoot in a southern state showed such footprints and a friend of mine who has a mate who saw the tracks in the bean field there said that they appeared to be faked for the movie. Too long and narrow, with just three toes. That isn't proof that the animal didn't leave tracks, just that the ones for the film were likely bogus. And there were eyewitness accounts and other data that lead me to believe that that alleged 'monster' may well be real. One chap even went to hospital for injuries that he swore it inflicted on him!"

"You look like you're about to reveal something more spectacular," said Hotchner. "Am I right?

The scientist nodded. "There were what I believe may be authentic tracks by three of your victims."

He turned to Knowles and said, "John, did you bring those files I asked for?"

The Undersheriff nodded and pulled over an empty chair from the next table. He set his briefcase on it and took out a thick manila envelope of 8X10-inch color photos. They were especially detailed and when he handed them to Hotchner with a request to pass them around and back to him, everyone was impressed.

"Can't we get this on our tablets?" asked Reid. "We may need to refer to them again if we see anything similar in future."

Knowles nodded. "Sure, when we come into the office tomorrow, we can have a briefing and upload any files that you don't have yet. We're adding more in the morning, and I'll make sure that those include these footprints. Now, Chris, maybe you'd better tell our friends what to look for there and why those prints are so important."

"Certainly," said the big scientist. "Apart from the overall appearance, which is the right size and the right shape to support a large pongid-like creature that stands erect, you'll notice the sort of markings like one finds in fingerprinting. American birth certificates include the infant's foot prints because each is unique to a particular neonate and remains so as that person ages. They're a positive source of ID. You've got the photos just now, Agent Rossi. Do you see what I mean? Those lines and whorls are imprinted in the clay by the river bank near where the body of that poor Greek chap was found, Stavros by name. The imprints are very detailed and they are unique to a particular Sasquatch, I'm sure. Look carefully at those and then look at the tracks left near Miss Jenner's corpse. You'll see not only much the same clarity, but that the markings are different! That means that we are dealing with at least two Sasquatches or Bigfoots, Bigfeet, whatever.

"The crucial thing to note is, "he continued, "that these lines and whorls that appear on real feet are virtually impossible to fake. It would require a specialized scientist who knew just what to try to present, and even he would find no way that I can think of of generating the markings and impressing them into the ground to look as if they were natural. Even the way the foot muscles are deployed suits the exact terrain and what those muscles would be doing in that situation."

"What about some sort of photo duplicating process?" wondered Rossi. "Could they paste a printout on fake feet and depress the ground with those where the prints would show?"

"Pretty unlikely I should think," spoke Senior Deputy Peter Blacklaws. "We thought of that in a sort of brainstorming session, trying to conjure up any means by which those tracks could be fakes. We know that computerized machines can even make guns now to a set of blueprints, but those are fairly rare and are quite expensive. That one would be in the hands of anyone wanting to make such fake Bigfoot tracks and having the expertise to get the shape of the feet right for the load bearing is unlikely. Those aren't just very large human-like prints. The arch and the proportion of the heel width and the like and the balls of the feet, etc. are just not proportional to what a human that size would display. These are clearly a different species."

"How do you know so much about tracks, Deputy?" demanded Morgan. "You a big hunter and tracker or something? Or do you have scientific training like the good doctor here?" He nodded toward van Reenan, who leaned back a bit and observed the black agent through narrowed eyes.

Blacklaws seemed surprised. But he replied calmly, "In fact, yes, I do hunt and am a serious amateur naturalist and a student of Bigfoot and other cryptozoological animals. Those that may be myths…or not. I'm losing faith in Nessie, the Loch Ness plesiosaur and the Lake Champlain equivalent. And I think the Nandi bear was quite probably a heavily-built hyena seen in poor light by impressionable people, black and white. That was in colonial Kenya, from around the time of World War I and for a few decades after. No bears are found in Africa, so it would be quite remarkable for there to be this one in the Nandi tribal lands. Some sightings may have involved especially stocky baboons.

"And I rather fancy that at least some witnesses had had a bellyful of pombe, the native beer. Same for the few European witnesses, whom one would normally accord more respect, as the natives tend to be easily impressed and be tellers of tall tales. Even now, many believe in witchcraft and the like.

"Anyway, I come from a long line of hunters and bush trekkers. My great grandfather was the legendary Geoffrey Blacklaws, a white hunter, author, and rancher in Kenya in the 1920's until he and the rest of the family moved to South Africa following Kenyan independence in 1962. His nippers, including my dad, also became professional hunters and an uncle was a game ranger. I grew up studying animals and when I immigrated to the USA, I kept it up here. I can almost always recognize any of our local fauna and their tracks. And Chris here is one of my best friends. We spend a lot of time in the woods, hunting, fishing, even just birdwatching. He and other biologists he works with and our local game warden have taught me a lot. And I've read a bunch about Bigfoot, which I think may just be real, perhaps in several species ranging from the Himalayas to the eastern USA. Some probably crossed over the onetime sea bridge between Asia and the American continent in prehistoric time, as did elk and other animals. Some bears were native here, but I think the big brown or grizzly bears may have come over that Bering Sea Bridge. The Indians often have tribal myths about Bigfoot that go back for hundreds of years."

Morgan shook his head. "Man, I can't believe I'm hearing this. So, you're gonna tell us that your serial killer is a big mythical monkey? Where'd you study law enforcement? The Discovery Channel? _Animal Planet_?"

"In fact, no," said the sheriff, wanting to steer off a confrontation between Morgan and the handsome Senior Deputy. He'd noticed that Morgan had been giving Blacklaws some evil stares and thought it had something to do with either his accent or with that blonde FBI agent Seaver, at whom Peter kept glancing. She had looked back and had once blushed and lowered her eyes and blushed a little more. She'd also played with her hair a little when she knew that Blacklaws was looking.

"As I was saying," Ford continued, "we have evidence from the Medical Examiner that the homicides were in all likelihood committed by humans, and he'll address that when you see him at the morgue tomorrow. We have pictures here, filed in your tablets. But seeing the actual damage may offer a more refined view; trip some understanding that seeing the photo may not. The bodies haven't been released for burial yet, although the families are bugging me to do that. After you view them, I'm going to release all but two that have particular damage that the ME will point out. I'll release them soon, too, if we can't learn more from them. I do respect the grief of the survivors and they want to hold the funerals. So be it: but I want your team to see them first, Agent Hotchner.

"By the way, do we need to be formal? You can call me Grant if I can call you Aaron. Is everyone comfortable with that?"

Hotchner thought rapidly. He was somewhat formal and was reluctant to be on too familiar grounds with local officers. But this sheriff was a pal of Diefenbaker's and he needed cooperation. And the Undersheriff and this Blacklaws fellow seemed smart and helpful. They weren't in a pissing contest to see if they could outguess the BAU, nor were they resentful of the Federal presence. Actually, they seemed friendly and inquisitive. And he had noticed that Rossi's eyes had lit up when they were talking about coming back while on vacation, to fish. It wouldn't hurt to play along and forge better relations in case they or Waters needed to interact with this county again. So, he said that, yes, first names were acceptable if his team agreed.

The agents looked at one another and nodded, Morgan somewhat hesitantly, looking again at Blacklaws. He'd didn't like the man's accent, he didn't like where he'd probably come from, and he knew another candidate for alpha male status and accomplished ladies' man when he saw one. Blacklaws pricked his vanity, and he felt some racial resentment, too.

Jareau decided to ask what they'd all been wondering about. "Are you and Peter from South Africa, then, Chris? How long have you been here? And is English your first language? You speak it well, but with some foreign phrasing. And that accent… It isn't British and it isn't like Australian, either. But the way you say things seems mostly British?"

The tall biologist nodded. "Yes, Peter and I are from South Africa. I was born in Johannesburg. Our accents differ some because I'm Afrikaans-speaking; for me, English is my second language, although I learned it from an early age. His ancestors began landing in the 1820's, and were the cause of the Great Trek, when my people took ox-drawn wagons over the Drakensberg Range to found the Transvaal Republic and the Orange Free State. We resented the English desire to control too much. Actually we Afrikaaner/Boer people were in some ways much like your own pioneers who trekked west in similar wagons. By the by, 'Boer' just means 'farmer.' We now work in the usual array of occupations, so it's not terribly accurate.

"Oh: I forgot to note that my family arrived in South Africa in 1728. Cape Town was founded by the Dutch in 1652, not long after your own Puritans or Pilgrims landed at Plymouth Rock. Few Americans grasp that Europeans settled there that far back. Apart from the Dutch, on whose language Afrikaans is based, a lot of French Protestants arrived after 1685, when the Edict of Nantes was withdrawn. That left France an unhealthy place for non-Catholics. There were also some German settlers who were assimilated into the Dutch and French elements.

"Peter was raised in the Eastern Cape and later, near Cape Town. He was born in Port Elizabeth, in what's now called Kwa-Zulu/Natal. He was trained as a winemaker, apart from his hunting jaunts. In fact, his family has a winery here in Washington, where he worked until getting US citizenship and becoming a copper.

"I suppose that sums us up in a nutshell. But I'm not the first Afrikaaner whom you've seen. The Academy Award winning actress Charlize Theron is one, although she now has a US accent, the better to get film roles. Candice Swanepoel, a Victoria's Secret model and her fellow Angel, Behati Prinsloo, are also of that lineage, although Prinsloo's family now lives in neighboring Namibia. I quite like Candice's accent. If you haven't seen her on TV talk shows, she's in many videos and interviews on YouTube. Peter keeps hoping that she'll sign autographs at the VS store here. I think he has a crush on several of those models." Van Reenan's eyes twinkled as he watched his friend flush a little as they all laughed.

Jareau was intrigued. "I can't say that I know many of their models' names, but are you saying that they have a shop in ElkPass? What's the population here?

Grant Ford answered. "Yes, my wife and daughter shop there. And it's in a mall that's the primary one for miles around. Most of our stores are in those strip malls or in rustic sort of parks. Overall population here is some 14,000, but the colleges and service facilities, car repairmen, etc. are here in ElkPass. A lot of shoppers and motel guests are transitory. They live in surrounding areas, some with just homesteads. And yes, that does somewhat make it hard for us to define suspects. There are a lot of people to keep track of, and so far, none isolated as having been involved with the victims. The killers may be some common friend of a few or they may all be stranger murders, the hardest to solve."

That left them feeling sober and Rossi was glad when the waitress offered pie or cake.

"Better take her up on it, "advised Waters. "This place bakes all their own desserts and they're infinitely better than what you get in chain restaurants."

Talk turned to fishing; the better to dispel the solemn attitude after crime scene photos had been passed around on their tablets. The women expressed delight with their fruit tarts: delicious, but not very fattening.

Ashley Seaver made a point of asking Blacklaws about dry flies for trout. "The only one I remember is the Royal Coachman," she admitted. "It's so pretty with those nice red and green colors. Almost a Christmas fly."

The senior deputy regaled her with information about the matter, in which the other men soon joined. Hotchner and Reid pretended to participate, but kept much of their attention on the case notes in their tablets. One other was not intrigued. Derek Morgan sulked and was seen to glare several times at both of the former South Africans, especially at Peter Blacklaws. Hotchner resolved to counsel him about projecting a hostile attitude. He wasn't sure if race was the issue or if something more personal about the handsome deputy was the cause. But he was determined to nip whatever was brewing in the bud, lest it Embarrass the Bureau, a cardinal sin for agents.

XXX

Conversation continued, some actually case-related, which the sheriff joked justified him finding a way to write off the cost of the meal on his budget. Then Seaver excused herself to visit the ladies room and a couple of minutes later, Blacklaws followed.

Jareau raised her eyebrows and she and Reid exchanged a glance, and then both noted that Morgan was sulking, almost glowering, and kept looking at Blacklaws's receding back. Something was evidently bothering him about one or both of the former South Africans, and it showed.

When Seaver came out of the restroom and started down the short hallway that led to the main dining room, she found Blacklaws coming the same way. He looked surprised and said, "Fancy meeting you here. But I think we need to arrange a new meeting place. If we keep this up, people will talk." He smiled to show that he was teasing.

Seaver gave him a cool look, trying to avoid seeming amused. "Are you flirting with me, Deputy?"

"Lord, I hope so," he replied. "I'm doing my best to. Look, are you married or engaged or anything awful like that? Or would you like to meet me for a drink and conversation later tonight or tomorrow? I've enjoyed explaining trout flies to you and maybe we can get better acquainted and find other common interests. We can even discuss the case, but I'd like to get to know you more in general. Or am I presuming overmuch on too short an acquaintance, to ask you out, I mean?"

She studied him carefully although she'd been looking furtively at him at the table. He did look good: a bit over six feet tall, dark hair with a closely trimmed mustache. He was in uniform, in a khaki shirt and dark green trousers with a wide gold stripe down the side. His shoulder tabs were gold, possibly meaning that he worked out of the sheriff's office in a supervisory role. Other deputies she'd noticed here wore red or green tabs, probably indicative of Traffic and Patrol. His gun belt was black leather, basketweave stamped. The sidearm was a Beretta M-92FS, a 9mm. Black Wellington boots completed the uniform, and she noted that they and the gun belt were nicely polished and seemed to be of high quality.

"Do you often ask out visiting FBI agents?" she wondered, trying to buy time while she decided how to respond to his invitation.

"We don't actually see a lot of you," he responded. "Waters and a few others have been in before and made friends among us on the force. And, yes I've taken Bill to lunch a couple of times, but he's a guy. I'm not asking you out primarily to discuss the FBI. In case you haven't checked a mirror lately, you're visually more impressive than Bill Waters or the other agents from the Seattle or Spokane offices. And I like you, the sound of your voice and the way you ask questions. If you'll be here awhile, I thought we might enjoy getting together and seeing a film or something. But if I'm being presumptive, forgive me. I just figured that if I didn't ask soon, some other deputy might beat me to it. You do tend to draw the male eye…"

"Let me think about this," Seaver said. "Have you got a card with your phone number? Agent Hotchner usually keeps us together while we're working a case, but I am officially off duty at night, unless there's a real need to be on call. Maybe we can talk on the phone and decide on something? Unless Candice Swanepoel comes to town, in which case, I guess you'd be after her to go out instead of me?" She smiled, amused at his blush.

"If she makes a visit to the VS shop here, I'd like to say hello and get her autograph; Chris told the truth about that. But I doubt that internationally famous models date cops much. And the newspaper hasn't run any ads about her visiting anytime soon. Anyway, you're real and she's sort of a fantasy figure. Fact is, I am impressed with you, and I might just date you instead of Candice if I ever had that choice. We'd probably have more in common. Oh: yes, I do have some cards. Let me fumble one out of my ID case." And he did. He drew a gold Cross ballpoint pen and wrote his home number on the back.

Seaver took the card and read it quickly. "Senior Deputy, it says. I didn't quite catch what you do here. Are you a patrol supervisor?"

"No," Blacklaws demurred. "I'm primarily one of our investigators. I don't always work in uniform, but do also patrol when needed and I work a desk at headquarters when not investigating cases. I'm on desk duty this week, except when I need to be helping your lot from the Bureau. The Sheriff asked that I interface with your team and see that you get around to wherever you need to go and perform introductions where that may be helpful. I know the area well and can introduce you to merchants, college administrators, and the like. And if we need to go out into the woods to examine a crime scene, I'll let you know what to bring. You don't want to get careless out there amidst Mother Nature. She can be a cruel parent if you don't know what you're doing, and I sense that your team mostly works in cities, not out in the bush? Mind you, Agent Jareau is probably overreacting to the bear threat, but I wouldn't write it off. We really do have bears here, and cougars, and rattlesnakes. But they seldom menace people. You just need to be prepared on the rare occasions when it happens.

"I say, have you actually got even the basic survival items, like a knife and a compass; matches, that sort of thing? I can loan you a few things if we're together, but if many of you will need to go out in the forest, we need to swing by a store and see that everyone has the essential items, just in case they get lost or a storm comes."

"You have a point, "admitted Seaver. "Look, why don't I call you later tonight and you can tell me what I'd need and maybe we can shop for it in case it looks like we'd be going forth into the primeval wilderness? I guess that you're an expert? I have to say, I never before said that I'd call a guy and talk about knives and matches before a first date. In my job, we're normally wary of men who carry matches. They may be arsonists!" She smiled to put him at ease.

"That's not the sort of fire that I'm hoping to start with you," he teased back. "Seriously, please do call. I think we could be friends, and you clearly need a chap to help you understand trout flies. Who knows? If I impress you enough, you may come back and actually go fishing with me. Or something. I sense that I do want to know you better and it isn't all physical."

She grinned. "But some is physical?"

He smiled and said, "Oh, lord, yes. Don't be too jealous of those models. You turn male heads quite well yourself, Special Agent Seaver. The FBI ought to use pictures of you on recruiting posters. There'd be no shortage of men applying! By the way, I'm Peter if you're Ashley."

She looked frankly into his face, decided that she liked what she saw there and flushed slightly. "Okay, Peter and Ashley it is."

They looked around as Rossi and Jareau walked up. "Is everything all right?" asked the older agent.

"Yes, of course," answered Blacklaws. "We were just discussing interagency cooperation. I look forward to working with your team."

And Seaver and Blacklaws walked out to the table before they could be asked any more probing questions about their delay in returning sooner.

XXX

As the group left, the sheriff told them where to find a good motel and they parted, agreeing to meet at the sheriff's office the next morning.

As the agents entered their SUV's, Hotchner took Morgan aside and asked what bothered him about van Reenan and Blacklaws.

"Hotch, I know a little about South Africa, at least from a black man's perspective. Remember _apartheid,_ their system of segregation? I don't hold with that, and these guys probably came here to keep from living under black rule now that things have changed. They're probably both racists. And that Blacklaws guy thinks he's God's gift to women."

Rossi laughed. "And you don't think you are? Morgan, you think you're Mr. Superstud. You just don't like a rival, especially if he's white."

Morgan spun around and snapped," I told you, that guy is a racist. And I don't like how he looks at Seaver. He's gonna make a play for her: wait and see!"


	2. Chapter 2

Murder in the Forest: the Bigfoot Killings, Chapter Two

Hotchner rolled his eyes. "Morgan, they may or may not be racists. I doubt if all white South Africans are, and these men have lived here for years. They're US citizens now. Don't approach them with a chip on your shoulder and we'll probably get along fine. I'll try to keep you away from them so you don't have to let this feeling fester or have to deal with them.

"As for Seaver, she's a big girl. If she needs help in dealing with Blacklaws, I'm sure that she'll ask. "He looked at Jareau and waved her over.

"JJ, we're going to be renting rooms with two agents per room. You and Ashley are the only women, so you'll share a room. Morgan is concerned that Deputy Blacklaws may stalk her. Will you keep an eye on her and let me know if he becomes a problem?"

Jareau was amused. "Sure, Hotch. But I kind of think that she's looking forward to seeing him again. I noticed them looking at each other, and they took awhile getting back from the restrooms and she looked back at him and sort of blushed. I think she likes him. I'll try to pry a little and see what's going on there, if anything. He is really handsome and he seems very witty. And he's a hunter. Maybe he'll protect us all from bears!" She laughed.

"Very funny," groused Morgan. "I'm just saying…"

"I get the idea," Hotchner replied. "Lets' all be careful and look out for one another. As usual. Now, we'd better get to that motel and hope they have enough rooms for the whole team. Grant Ford said that he warned them to expect us, and they said they'd try to place us all in one hallway. JJ, if you get a room with a bear rug on the wall, just tell me and we'll swap rooms." He smiled at her reaction. The others laughed.

"Okay, have your fun," JJ responded. But she didn't seem bitter. "Maybe if there is a bear rug, Ashley and I can call Peter and he'll come watch over us. If I was single, I might just try something to bring him over. Maybe fabricate a bear sighting: that should do it."

Morgan made a dismissive gesture with his hand and turned to enter a vehicle. "You girls had better watch out," he warned. "That Blacklaws guy will love you and leave you and cut a new notch on his bedpost. Don't say that I didn't tell you."


	3. Chapter 3

Murder in the Forest: the Bigfoot Killings, Chapter 3

At the motel, the team talked briefly and was dismissed for the night. Seaver and Jareau watched TV for a half hour, talking as they drank Sprites from the machine in the hall.

"So, are you gonna call him?" teased Jareau.

Ashley pretended to be surprised. "Call who?"

Jareau looked at her, a twinkle in her eye. "He is kind of cute and sort of masterful, I guess, or protective and enticing. I bet he gets a lot of girls. Are you sure that you want to be one?

Seaver blushed. "I think he sees me as an individual. And if he's just looking to carve another notch on his bedpost, I think I'll spot that pretty quickly. Yeah, I think I may call him. He gave me his home number."

"Well, he's hardly going to want to talk to you on his official line, which may be recorded."

Seaver winced. "How true! Look, are you about to take a shower? Long enough that I can make a private call while you're in there?" She flushed at her companion's wry grin.

"Okay, I can take a hint. I'm nothing if not a romantic. Just don't get burned, Ashley. Morgan may be right about him."

Seaver rolled her eyes. "Don't repeat this, JJ, but I'm not a fan of Agent Morgan. I can work with him and I guess he usually means well, but he's a worse hotshot than Peter probably is, and he does have a racial chip on his shoulder, in my opinion. Maybe not always, but in this case, yes."

Jareau shrugged, undressed (the TV show was boring, anyway), and went to the shower.

Even before she heard the water come on, Seaver was dialing Blacklaws's phone. He answered on the third ring. When she heard his voice, a little thrill went through Ashley's veins and she said, "Guess who this is? And it isn't Candice or Doutzen or any of their coworkers."

He chuckled. "Probably could be, if you applied there. Or, maybe they'd reject you as having too good a figure. Those models are rather skinny. Anyway, how are you? I was hoping that you'd call. I say, are we in private?

Assured that they were, the two began an exploratory study of their backgrounds and personalities, as people do when a relationship begins, or may.

XXX

Down the hall, Rossi knocked on Hotchner's door. When it opened, he lifted a bottle of Scotch and asked "Nightcap? And maybe a brief conference?"

Hotchner nodded and opened the door wider to admit his friend. "I'll get us some glasses."

Sitting with Mr. Dewar's amber liquid and a splash of water in their glasses, they drank a toast to success in their mission and then Hotchner asked, "What's on your mind, Dave?"

They discussed the case so far, agreed that it was going better than expected and that they liked the local officers. They addressed the matter of Derek Morgan's pique, too, and Hotchner shrugged and said, "I'll talk to him once more if need be, and if that doesn't work and he becomes a problem, he can go back to Quantico and work on some other case. That would look bad for his career and I think he'll shape up. It shouldn't be a problem to keep him away from the guys he doesn't like here. We're all adults. I think we can solve our problems. Do you know who I feel sorry for? Those missing girls. I just hope they're still alive and that we find them in time."

Rossi nodded and lifted his glass. "Yeah, I'll drink to that!"

_Be advised that our next scene introduces the kidnapped girls. It may be a little dark for the very shy or squeamish. But they're alive. Can they remain so?_


	4. Chapter 4

Murder in the Forest, Chapter Four

_Note: This is a Mature story. Just a reminder._

Courtney Cassidy groaned and shook her head. She was groggy, but registered faintly that another girl's voice was calling her name.

"Go away," she murmured, coiling into a fetal position. She gradually realized that she was restrained and shook her head to clear it as the voice called again.

"Courtney, damn it, wake up! How much of that drug did they give you?!"

Courtney registered what the voice was saying now and she sat up looking around, trying to take in her surroundings. She tried to lift her hands to her throbbing head and realized that she was handcuffed, the cuffs fastened to a chain around her waist. It took only a brief moment after that for her to wake fully and also register that she was nude and that her ankles were also chained and that there was a chain from the center link in the ankle chain, connected to a large iron ring in a cement floor! She was in a cell with fenced walls, the sort of thing that one might find in industrial fencing, with metal posts supporting strong wire fencing. The fence reached to the ceiling of her room, a height of about eight feet. There were no windows, and there was a solid wall behind her and on one side. The fence ran in front and on one side and she noticed now that there was a section of fence that provided a partition between her and another girl also confined here. The solid wall was again in place on the far side of that girl, and each had a mattress and a cheap blanket. There were no clothes in sight; the other girl being as bare as she was. She grasped that they wore earrings about the time that she was able to distinguish what the other girl was saying.

"Courtney! Can you understand me? This is Melissa Winters! We were in high school together? Can you hear me? Dammit, wake up! They gave me drugs when I was brought here, too, but it took me only maybe ten minutes to recover once I opened my eyes. Are you okay? Answer me! I see you moving."

Courtney shook her head and focused on the other girl, thinking what she'd said and the name she'd given. "Yeah, okay, Melissa. We were cheerleaders together, but you were a grade behind me. You want to be an actress someday. I remember now. Where the hell are we? What's happening, and where are our clothes?"

Melissa sighed in relief. "Okay, I'll tell you everything, but please sit up and try to listen. The men who took us are going to be back in here soon to take me for a walk, or so they promised. They let me go outside a time or two a day if no one is around. They chain me differently and I have to wear a round ball gag thing and a blindfold, but I can feel the sun and breathe fresh air. They said when they brought you in that you can take a walk, too, beginning tomorrow, if you please them."

Courtney stared at the other girl, remembering her face now. Yeah, okay, Melissa, the wannabe actress. Her head was clearing rapidly now, and she wanted answers.

"Where are we and who has us? The news said that you went missing about a week ago. The cops said there was no way to tell if you were kidnapped, were lost in the woods, or were just a runaway. What on earth is going on here?"

"Okay," repeated Melissa. "Just listen and ask questions after I brief you. I can tell you most of it. First, I was kidnapped on my way to the library. I graduated the year after you did and I'm in junior college now. I'm like, a Drama major, okay? But taking all the usual classes required for most degrees. Whatever. Anyway, these guys, two of them, just walked out from between other cars and turned me around and one tied my wrists behind me with cord while the other held me with a hand over my mouth. Then one stuck a needle in my arm, telling me to hold still so I wouldn't get hurt by either them or the needle. They said that it'd put me to sleep, whatever drug they gave me. It did, and I woke up here, naked like we are now, and chained this way.

"I was left alone until they were sure I was awake, I guess. Then they came in and made me kneel in front of them and told me that I was a prisoner and that if I wanted to live, I had to obey them. They told me that I could be a live slave or a dead brat. That's what they said. I could hardly believe my ears and I told them off, big-time. I mean I come from a good family. I was a cheerleader and I'm popular on campus. Even my teachers like me, except for old Mrs. Ryan and I think she hates my guts because I'm young and cute, like she does other girls I could name. My dad is a doctor! Mom is in the social register. We host parties for important people. Who were they to just grab me off the street and strip me and make these threats? What the hell did they mean by that slave stuff? This isn't ancient Rome or modern Arabia or wherever they still keep girls like that! "

"So what's the deal now?" demanded Courtney. "What are they going to do with us? Sell us in the Middle East? To some drug lord? You've been here a week? What have you learned? What do they make you do?"

Melissa blushed scarlet. "Courtney, this isn't going to please you, but you're going to find out and they told me to tell you, anyway, so they'd have to answer fewer questions.

"I've had to, uh, please them, doing what they said. I refused at first. See that ring hanging from the ceiling above you? There's one in my section of this cell, too. Well, they tied my wrists up there and whipped me until I thought I couldn't scream any louder or longer. They told me to scream all I liked, because no one was going to hear me. We're somewhere pretty remote. That's why they let me out in the sun sometimes. No one's going to see, right? Anyway, that whip stings like a swarm of hornets. It doesn't leave marks on you for long. They told me that they don't want to mark girls; just make them comply. And the louder I screamed, well, they started laughing. They enjoyed it; thought it was funny!

"You may as well know now that they said that you're going to be whipped, too, at least once, to let you see that they can do it and have you experience what it feels like. And they have this hole in the floor in another room. It's all icky and they say that rats may be able to get in there through the sewer, maybe even snakes. They locked me down there; all curled up in that confined space with the steel grille locked above my head. I was in there for almost three hours and when they came back to tell me that I was going to be whipped again and then put back in that horrid little cramped space for the rest of the night…I told them that I'd do what they wanted; not to hurt me or abuse me anymore. I was terrified, okay? Before you judge me, wait and see how you feel after they do that stuff to you! And they had worse, stuff that we can talk about later. But I bet you aren't any better than me or most girls. You'll do what they want, too. Don't judge me until you meet them. These guys are 'way scary. But if you do what they want, they don't hurt you and if you perform what they want well enough, you get a piece of chocolate or a soda or some fruit, things like that."

"What if they don't like the way you do something?" asked Courtney, dreading the answer. "And what do they want you to do?"

Melissa blushed again and walked over to the partition between them, the limit of the chains on her feet. "Courtney, this is going to be awful, but it's what we have to do. They told me that if I didn't obey soon, they'd kill me and take another girl. I think they mean it. You'll be in the same boat, I'm sure."

Courtney felt hollow dread in her stomach. "Just what do they want? Sex, I guess?"

Melissa looked down and shrugged. "Yeah, like that was really hard to guess, right? But they like other things. They made me dance for them, too. They knew that I was a cheerleader and that I danced in the senior class musical review. By the way, you remember the scandal when the teachers found out about what Jennifer Fowler promised the football team if they beat Lakeville High? " Jennifer had been a cheerleader with the two captives.

Courtney grimaced and rolled her eyes. "When she told them they'd all get blow jobs from her and Mary Snider? Yeah, Coach Johnson walked in unexpectedly and caught both girls with their clothes off and on their knees in the locker room. They nearly got expelled and so did several players. So? Oh, wait: are you telling me that these guys…"

"Yeah, " blushed Melissa. "We could sure use Jen and Mary here. They'd be a real hit with our captors. Get the picture? Have you ever given a guy one of those? I did it a few times with two guys I dated, but I can't say that I was as experienced as Jen and Mary had the reputation of being. And these bullies make sure that you do it really well, with all sorts of suggestions about just how they want that. If not…" She looked at the ring hanging from the ceiling.

Courtney shuddered. "They whip you?"

Melissa nodded. "Oh, Courtney, I hate that they took you, too. But I'm glad to have company. I just hope we satisfy them. I think they're the creeps who killed those people in the news, the ones where some people think a Bigfoot did it. I've been afraid to ask, but they can be really mean if you try to refuse them whatever they tell you to do. My advice is to give them any thrills they demand and hope they go easy on us. Oh: This is really bad, too. They told me to tell you that if you don't do what they order, we'll both be punished. Not just you. I hate that. But please, for my sake, do what they want. You're going to have to, anyway. They did me by force the first two times. Then, I was tired of that pit in the floor and the whip and their threats and I haven't resisted. We need to keep them happy. I'm truly frightened, the worst I've ever been. Oh: I hope you aren't a virgin? If this had been my first time, it'd probably have been even more traumatic. But I did it with my prom date and a few times later, too "

Courtney replied, "I'm not quite a virgin, I'm afraid, but I'm not the class whore, either. I haven't done it much, so don't believe anything you hear about me because of what I do, my job, I mean. Don't read too much into it. But I wonder if they took me because of where I work."

The blonde girl looked at her curiously. "So, what do you do? I haven't seen you for over a year. I work at an ice cream store."

The Cassidy girl shuffled her chained ankles and cleared her throat. "I, uh, well; I kind of dance three nights a week at Harry's Boobalicious club. Like, I'm a topless dancer. And I give lap dances, too. But I don't screw anybody but guys I really like, mainly one from school. That's how I'm putting myself through college and moving away from home soon, I hope. And the money is pretty good, most nights, especially when tourists or hunters are in town. Same for conventions. But like I said, don't judge me for my job. Several of the girls there are in college. We're not the sluts that some assume that we are."

"Okay," said her new friend. "That's cool, I guess, and if we dance for these horse's rears, it may buy us some time if they maybe are thinking of killing us and moving on."

They heard a rattle at the door at the top of the stairs that led out of the room. A lock turned as keys jingled.

Melissa hissed, "Look out. Here they come. Go kneel on your mattress. Watch how I do it. Please don't do anything to upset them. They're probably going to give you a warm welcome, anyway."

Scared speechless, Courtney did as told, trying to present herself well to whoever came down those stairs. She glanced at her cellmate and tried to mimic the seductive, submissive, open-thighed kneel that she saw there. She hoped desperately that someone had seen something when she was captured and that the police were looking for them now. But she doubted it. Despair rose in her and she began to shiver. She realized with disgust that she was crying. Why me; why us? her mind silently screamed.


	5. Chapter 5

Murder in the Forest, Chapter Five

Derek Morgan was up early the next morning, still chafed by the memory of the men whom he disliked. He took out his cell phone and called Penelope Garcia. She was in the Eastern time zone, so had been at work for over an hour before her phone rang.

'Hey, Baby Girl," he teased. "How about doing me a favor and looking up some personal info on some deputies here? This is just for me right now, so don't tell Hotch or anyone else. I just need to know if these guys have any bad stuff on their records before we work with them."

"It shall be as requested, O Great Black Elephant," she replied. She was quite unaware that she had in fact used one of the traditional Zulu chiefs' praise names. Blacklaws and van Reenan would have laughed at this, had they overheard. "Tell me of your adventures in the rustic wilds, chocolate dream of all womankind. Have any bears chased JJ yet?"

"Not yet, but the restaurant we went to has some bear rugs and elk and deer heads on the walls. Pretty gross if you ask me, but they didn't, of course. I want to know more about the sheriff here; partly because I don't see any black deputies and I think the other guys I want to check on may be racists. Maybe Ford is, too. But we've done okay so far. We're just getting started; the real work like interviewing victims' families begins today. But I think this Blacklaws jerk I'm going to ask you to investigate may be after Ashley. I'm more worried about him than bears. I mean, those woods are big and there can't be all that many bears, even in Washington state. We probably won't even leave town unless they find another body out in the sticks."

Garcia asked about Bigfoot and was told that this was a ruse used by human killers. "We just have to figure out who," explained Morgan. "That South African biologist guy and his cop pal think there may really be Bigfoots, but even they doubt that one is killing these poor people out here. How's things back in civilization, at Quantico?"

"Laid back and cool," she answered. "I was so stoked by not having Hotch to watch the time that I lingered over cereal and cantaloupe in the cafeteria on break. I'm just catching up on some routine work. Send me some useful questions and I can probably find a way to catch your malfeasant fugitives."

He agreed to ask more questions as soon as any leads developed and they rang off after he told Garcia who he wanted information about. Morgan checked the time and headed for the shower. He needed to meet the team at Hotch's room in an hour and they'd drive to an IHOP for breakfast, the other restaurant they'd used not opening until lunch. He wondered who he'd be talking to today, probing for any clues as to how someone's loved one had been selected to die...

XXX

Meanwhile, the captive girls had compared notes. As expected, their oppressors had come for Melissa and she'd gotten her outside walk the previous afternoon. They'd uncuffed her wrists before she left her cell and recuffed them behind her and again locked them to her waist chain. They did this before unchaining her leg irons from the ring in the floor. They then made her open her mouth widely and applied a large black ball gag, buckling the leather strap behind her head. Next came a padded leather blindfold that also buckled. Finally, they locked a lighter chain leash on the ring to the black leather collar that she wore on her throat.

Both men wore black cloth hoods to hide their faces. And each was dressed in black, with black boots and they wore pistols. One had a foot long stiff leather strap in his hand and he slapped Melissa across the butt with it and laughed as she jerked and screamed into the gag. The other man fondled her intimately and all there could feel her shame as if she'd spoken it.

Courtney observed and gathered her courage. "Do you two big guys think you can control that poor girl now? I don't know who you are, but the police are bound to be looking for us and you can't get away with this for long. Why are you doing this? Why pick on Melissa and me? We've never done anything to you or anyone else. Why are we here? Is this just about sex? Can't you bastards get girls without kidnapping them and forcing yourselves on them? "

The larger man laughed. "Yeah, it's about sex and maybe about power, too. I'm sure the cops and shrinks would say it's about power, and it is. But we just get off on taking hot bimbos like you two and making you do anything we fancy in our kinkiest fantasies. You'd better watch your mouth, Sweetie. You're due for an introductory whipping soon. How hard it is and how long it lasts depends on your attitude. If you're sweet and submissive and obedient, you can do okay here. Give us trouble and you'll regret it."

"How long are you going to keep us?" Courtney persisted in spite of her fear. "Are you going to kill us, like those other girls in the news? What insane motives must you have? Are you fucking sociopaths who get off on hurting people? "

The smaller man came over and shook his fist at her though the fence. "Shut up, bitch. Watch your language. To answer your question, how long we keep you depends on how well you please us. Those other girls were either not quite pretty enough for longtime slavery here or they were too rebellious. We could break any girl in time and if we thought one was worth it, we'd do that. But the sooner you cooperate, the better your chance of staying alive and not having to be replaced by some other chick that might break easier. The goal is to have two or three babes here to entertain us when we want until we make enough money to leave for greener pastures. We'll probably ransom you in a year or two, but if you've been pleasing and fun to know, we won't kill you. But if you don't do a good job of satisfying us, you could wind up being sold in Mexico instead of being ransomed. Remember that.

"Start thinking of how to do really good sex, and we know that you're a dancer. That's an advantage for you; you can do that to keep us interested. Your pal here is coming along just fine so far. I suggest that you try to be as pleasing. Now, look: we're taking her up for a walk. She'll get rubber shower clogs to wear outside to keep her from getting anything in her feet and we'll lead her around a path where she won't run into anything. If she stumbles, I'll catch her. I like putting my hands on her, anyway.

"When we get back, she'll be up there an hour or so more, pleasing me. Later, we'll bring her back and you can come up after supper and show my friend here what talents you have in bed and in moving to some music for us. Better try hard, honey, or both you and the other slut here will be punished and made to start over. Get the picture?"

Courtney was angry. "We're not sluts, damn you! We're college students. We aren't whores. We don't do what you want, at least not unless it's with some guy we've dated for awhile and really like. We can't just put out like slave girls. Where did you get that fantasy, anyway? This is modern America; not ancient Rome or some Arab prince's fiefdom in a desert halfway across the world!"

"We can discuss this later tonight, when we have you listen to a full briefing about why you're here and what we expect," said the smaller man. "In the meanwhile, start thinking of yourself as belonging to a Roman master or something along those lines and desperate to please. You'll be well served by adopting that mentality. Maybe the other doll here caught on quick because she wants to be an actress. Maybe she sees this as a role or whatever. Now look, the sun will be easing down before too long, and Melissa here has earned some sun and fresh air. We'll see you in a couple of hours. Be thinking of where you stand. No one is looking near here for you and there's no way for the cops to connect you to us. You're totally in our hands Get that through your proud head and think of how to make us find you worthwhile."

"Wait," begged Courtney. "I'm dying of thirst. I think that drug you gave me dehydrated me. May I have some water? Please, sir?"

The man relented and went over to a large box across the room near a refrigerator. He took out a bottle of water and came into her cell and made her kneel and accept the water as he held the bottle. Her wrists were fastened at her navel, so she had no way to manage the plastic bottle on her own. This added to her fury but she tried not to glare at the men. After all, she was responsible not only for her own safety with them, but they'd punish Melissa if she angered them enough!

"Thanks," she said after drinking her fill.

"That's better, baby," said the taller man. "But say, 'thanks, master' from now on. It'll help you to fit into your new life here. I mean that. "

Courtney nodded, and then cast her gaze down, trying not to show her disgrace and anger.

The smaller man locked her fence door and the two captors led Melissa away and helped her up the stairs, her ankle chains dragging and clinking, an ominous sound to the poor girl left behind. Courtney started suddenly, afraid that they'd turn off the light and leave her in darkness. But they didn't, and she heard the door lock and sat down on her mattress to think. But she was so frightened that she had trouble organizing her thoughts.


	6. Chapter 6

Murder in the Forest, Chapter Six

The BAU team breakfasted at an International House of Pancakes (IHOP) coffee shop, finding friendly service and good food. They were seeing a little more of the town and were gradually becoming aware that it was actually a rather affluent area, numbering among its citizens a considerable group who had fled California's liberal attitudes, frequent earthquakes, urban pollution, and racial strife. A number of landowners raised cattle and crops and many owned prosperous businesses. True, some business was seasonal, like hunting and fishing, with limited skiing in winter. But outdoorsmen spent a lot when there and there was enough trade from the area to sustain most stores and other businesses remaining open year-round.

Motels and the two hotels were often crowded in season, but had enough trade to cope all year. Many tourists and those commuting from the drier eastern part of the state to the big coastal cities often stopped off in Elk Pass for food and sleep.

The group agreed that their rooms were clean and comfortable, with cable TV for basic networks; others for a premium fee. Hotchner talked with his crew and agreed to see if there was enough room at the inn for individual rooms.

"Reid keeps me up late reading," complained Morgan.

"I'd share my books with you, but most don't have enough pictures to interest you," retorted Reid, to general amusement. Jareau said that she didn't want to change roommates, in case they still had to share, and that, too, got a laugh.

By the time they got to the sheriff's office, they were more sober. The case was not one that left anyone in a sparkling mood, after all. And it rapidly grew worse.

Sheriff Ford came in soon after they'd set up and were comparing notes with three deputies assigned to guide them around town. "I'm afraid that I have some bad news," he related. "Mr. and Mrs. Vaughn Cassidy called this morning to report their daughter Courtney missing. She didn't come home for supper and didn't call after saying that she was headed for the library to research a college assignment. That was at about 3:00PM, and she was due home by six. I'll spare you asking about the usual possibilities, like if she got a date, went to a friend's house, etc. The parents called everyone they know and called hospitals and the jail. Not that Courtney is likely to have been arrested. She's got a fine background. Was a cheerleader in high school and made mostly 'A' grades and has continued that at the junior college, where she's a sophomore; she's 19.

"Now, I know this family from church and the dad called me today. They're plenty worried and I agree. We usually don't fool with missing persons reports unless at least two days have elapsed. But in this case, Courtney is so responsible and I know the family… Now, here is where it gets worse. I put out a BOLO (Be On the Look Out bulletin) for her car and Sgt. Thomas just called in that it's parked at the library. Looks like it was there all night. We're going to send a team over with some lab people and check it out; dust for prints, that sort of thing. "

Rossi interrupted. "I guess you've asked about her cell phone and tried to access call records?"

Ford nodded. "Doing that now. The phone company is supposed to call back after they pull up her account. And they're tracking the phone. Unless the batteries were removed, we should get a fix on it even if it's turned off. A lot of folks don't realize that we have that capability. We catch several fugitives a year who think they're invisible to us electronically just because they turned off their phones. But you guys know that. Anyway, this may be a lead to worsening developments in the case. Aaron, do you want to join me at her car and maybe send agents to the medical examiner and to interview the families of the victims? That'd include the parents of Melissa Winters. They're calling us a lot, although I assured them that we'll notify them if we find anything. I guess that if it was my daughter missing, I'd be worried sick, too. Hell, I know I would. That girl, her brother, and my wife are pretty much my life, beyond the job and a hobby or two. I feel sure that any of us here who're parents know the feeling."

"All right," said Hotchner. "I'll go with you to the car. That way, we can stay in touch best and I can tell my team what we find. Morgan, you go with me. When we're done there, we'll see the medical examiner. JJ, you and Dave visit the college and see which classes the missing students may have had together and see who they may have been friends with. Reid, you and Ashley go with Deputy Blacklaws and see the Cassidy girl's family. Try to question any siblings away from the parents, of course. Teens often tell one another things that they don't tell the parents. Sheriff, is Courtney a single child?"

"Nope. Got a sister who's 16. Pretty close, too, I think. But she went to school today. You can catch her there away from the parents after you talk to them. She attends Beaver Dam High School. Peter can show you the way."

"Okay, everyone: I'll call you later about when to meet back here or at the motel. And I'll see about getting us separate rooms. They're cheaper than expected, so _per diem_ should cover the expense. Call me as you learn things, or don't." Hotchner shoved his coffee cup away and rose, donning his suit jacket.


	7. Chapter 7

Murder in the Forest, Chapter Seven

The team visiting Courtney Cassidy's family took Blacklaws's cruiser, to save having to follow him in traffic and to allow them to talk as they drove. Seaver rode in front with Blacklaws and Reid sat in the back. Seaver found that Blacklaws was a witty raconteur with a droll sense of humor, telling the others about the town and the department as well as the case. Seaver learned that he had lost a wife in an auto accident three years before and wasn't dating anyone in particular.

At the family residence on a gracefully elm-shaded street that spoke softly of comfortable wealth, they found both parents awaiting them, the sheriff having notified them that investigators were en route. Vaughn Cassidy was a tall man with handsome features and a worried look that showed the strain that he was under. He wore a classic green Izod shirt with tan Dockers or similar slacks and dark brown Timberland handsewn shoes, heavier than boat shoes, but along those lines. His wife was well-bred and classy, with a beauty queen or socialite look about her. She was in a blue and white floral pattern dress, knee-length, with short sleeves and white high heels. The silver and turquoise pendant around her neck and matching earrings looked expensive. Seaver noticed that the wedding rings boasted a substantial number of carats. One sensed that the Cassidys, Vaughn and Christie, were athletic and aware of themselves as glamour people, certainly more "Hollywood" than most in this small city. Pictures of Courtney and her sister Tessa adorned a whole wall in the well appointed living room. The girls were shown over the years in beauty contests and as cheerleaders. The team noted that other photos depicted Mrs. Cassidy in similar roles. The girls were clearly being raised in her glamorous shadow, and looked polished and prime. They appeared smart but a bit satisfied with themselves, aware of their looks and their social positions. Cassidy said that he ran a very successful insurance agency and Mrs. Cassidy asked a Mexican maid to bring coffee and cookies before admitting that she was exclusively a housewife. She was active in social affairs and in hosting parties for her husband's business. Travel photos and memorabilia revealed that the family had vacationed in France, the UK, Germany, and other countries, some in the tropical Americas. Several pictures taken on boats depicted oceanic fishing, with tuna, barracuda, wahoo, and a sailfish as catches. The mounted sailfish graced a wall in the next room, visible through a wide door. The BAU agents revised their opinion of the family and the town. This was hardly just a rural village as they'd half expected. Reid began to suspect that kidnapping for ransom might be more likely to explain Courtney's absence than one of the Bigfoot cases.

Blacklaws looked closely at the photos of Courtney and excused himself to make a phone call from the porch. He had seen this girl before, and thought he knew where. And that was not the image of her that one would expect from this home and these parents…

In a few minutes, he was back and listened politely to the accolades from the parents, who were insistent that Courtney was a fine young lady and never in trouble; didn't run with a questionable crowd, etc.

And then, he asked as nicely as he could phrase it about Courtney's job. He had just confirmed with Harry's Boobalicious Club that it was indeed her that he'd seen dance there while checking the club for violations and general compliance with local regulations. She used a different name, Misti Waters, but he knew her face and her voice and her body language, the sexy saunter that she employed to drag male eyes after her as she walked. Courtney Cassidy was not a girl whom men forgot easily, once seen.


	8. Chapter 8

Murder in the Forest, Chapter Eight

The Cassidys sat stunned after Blacklaws told how he knew their daughter. Both FBI agents looked at one another, at Blacklaws, and then back at the couple whose daughter was missing.

Finally, Christie Cassidy said, "Vaughn, we need to level with these people. This is very embarrassing, but if we can tell them anything at all that'll get Courtney back…"

He nodded and sighed. "Agents, what I'm about to tell you is in confidence, if at all possible. I don't even want the sheriff to know, unless he really has to. I mean, we know his family from church and school! We live here, and my reputation is everything to my business. But the fact is, I've lost a lot of that business over the past year to a new firm that's undercut my insurer's allowable rates. I can't always discount policies as much as they can. And we had some medical expenses before my mother died last fall, and then the funeral. High expenses… The gist of this is that I had to let go a clerk in the office and we've thought of firing the maid." He looked carefully to see that the Mexican girl wasn't in sight.

"Courtney wanted to attend UCLA; not go to the junior college here. But we just couldn't swing that, and she wants to pay her own way, not to be a burden to me and her mother right now when things are tight. So, she heard about that job and took it before Christie and I knew she was doing that. When we found out where she was working, the family had a big argument. Both of my daughters stuck together and told me that I should be grateful that Courtney was making so much money in three nights a week, sometimes on a weekend. She pays her own tuition and wants to work until she has enough saved for a year at UCLA after she graduates with an Associate of Arts degree here and maybe gets a scholarship or two. She threatened to move out if we couldn't handle her working there, at least while she hunts a better job that'll let her set her hours so that she can stay in college. So we agreed to see what happens over the next few months and in the meantime, we carefully aren't talking about that. Especially, we are not telling anyone whom we know. What worries me is that Tessa sort of thinks it's glamorous or adventurous and she looks up to Courtney. Thank goodness, she's legally too young to even be in a bar, let alone to dance in one. And she told me last week that she'll try to talk Courtney into finding something else without getting Christie and me involved, so that Courtney's rebellion and stubbornness won't be aroused. She'll listen to her sister before she does her parents, about some things, anyway. And that's where we stand right now. I just hope this whole issue goes away and that Courtney stays in junior college on what she can make in some other job and still can save enough to stop working in that sleazy club."

Christie took her husband's hand and said, "I think she'll come around. Courtney is smart and she's basically a good girl. This thing is partly about money and about her pride, about not wanting to take money that Vaughn and I don't have right now, and she told me that we need to keep Rosa, the maid, if we can. Both girls like Rosa, and she needs the job. And to be honest, I think this dancing thing appeals a little to Courtney's vanity. She gets excited about men wanting her, buying her flowers and little gifts and coming back to ask for her to dance at their tables. Apparently, some of the girls there have fans." She grimaced.

"Deputy Blacklaws? Is that your name? What do the girls earn there, if you know? What does Courtney get for a table dance or a lap dance? That's just so sordid, but I want to know." Mrs. Cassidy flushed pink but had genuine curiosity in her eyes.

Blacklaws replied that the going rate was $20 for table dances; $25 for lap dances. "But the girls get tips, and if you'll forgive my saying so, I suspect that Courtney gets more and better tips than most. She seems popular on the few occasions when I've seen her work. And she gets attention as she makes her rounds on stage, too. The girls dance on a succession of three stages, then take breaks and work the floor for table and lap dances. She's quite classy and seems to interact well with men. She has her steady admirers, I'm sure, and she does seem to enjoy the attention. But if I may change the subject, we need to decide if she's a victim of kidnapping for ransom, or was taken by a rapist, or is missing for some other reason. Does she date anyone in particular? Have any close friends who'd know where she might go or with whom, if she was taken?"

The Cassidys looked at one another and Christie said, "I know she dates Tim Wright more than other guys. I don't think they're going steady, but they go out a night or two a week, when she isn't working, of course. He brings her home sometimes, too, after they go somewhere after she gets off. And I know that she's spent three nights at his apartment near the college. But he seems nice and I know that she's going to spend time with men now that she's out of high school and is doing… what she does. I'd rather have her be with Tim than most young guys today. He seems decent and I doubt that he uses drugs, and she says he treats her with respect. I know she likes him. But I don't think they'd take off and not call us. And I called Tim last night and asked if she was there. He said no, and he got concerned. In fact, he called a couple of hours ago and asked about her. He's worried, too. They were supposed to date tonight and she hasn't called him."

Reid and Seaver asked the remainder of the questions that they normally would in such circumstances and warned the couple to notify them at once if any ransom demand was received.

"I know the kidnaper will probably tell you not to contact police, but if you don't, you probably won't see Courtney again. We have very subtle ways of investigating kidnappings and we can avoid letting them know that we're working the case." Reid tried to reassure the troubled parents.

"Look here," said Cassidy." If someone has grabbed Courtney for money, what's to stop them from taking Tessa, too? Are you going to be able to protect her? Should we take her out of school for awhile, until we know what's really happening?"

"That's a good question," admitted Seaver after looking at Reid. "Frankly, if she was my daughter, I think I'd keep her here at home. We were going to swing by the school and see if she could tell us anything that you haven't, but maybe when we do that, we'd better bring her home in Peter's patrol car. Does she have her own car?"

"No, she either rides the bus or I get her," said Christie Cassidy.

They decided to have the male Cassidy and Reid call the principal and have Tessa brought to the school office and for her mother and the law officers to collect her there.

"In fact, why don't I stay with the Cassidys in case someone contacts the house and you and Peter go get Tessa?" suggested Reid to Seaver. He felt that Tessa might say more to his female partner than if he was present. And he wanted both parents away from the girl in case she knew anything that she was hiding from her mother and father.

They agreed to that and Vaughn Cassidy reached for the telephone. He glanced at his wife, who told him the school number from memory. This day had become a nightmare, and he hoped fervently that it would improve. At least, Tessa would be home safe soon. He didn't know what he'd do if he lost his second daughter as well as the first.


	9. Chapter 9

Murder in the Forest, Chapter Nine

In the meantime, Sheriff Ford, Hotchner, and Morgan were listening to Dr. Charles Merrill, the medical examiner.

"You saw the photos that I submitted earlier," related Merrill, "but I want you to see some aspects of these deaths in person. You'll be more aware of what I saw."

The men donned surgical gowns, masks, and gloves, and Merrill led the way to a stainless steel table with a body displayed, face-up. "Now, this is the most extreme example of what I've seen in these murders," said the examiner. You'll see that this individual's right arm was severely twisted at the shoulder and has been almost ripped off. This and similar damage and those damned tracks are what led some reporters and gullible citizens to think a Bigfoot was involved. And I think the perpetrator did this deliberately and made those tracks to encourage the belief that this isn't their work, but that of some possibly mythical animal. Note the left knee, which was almost completely disarticulated, like you'd disjoint a chicken leg. The throat was smashed, and that as much as anything may have been the cause of death. I wouldn't be surprised if someone hit the victim with an object that crushed the windpipe and watched as the poor man choked to death. Most of the other wounds were post mortem."

"The skull was smashed pretty well, too," noted Hotchner. "What would have done that? Our notes say that a bloody tree branch was found there and may have been the weapon. But it's pretty big and heavy for a man to wield. "

Merrill nodded. "Yes, I think the branch was used, although perhaps hoisted by two men. But a sledgehammer may have been the actual instrument, with the branch then pounded into the wounds created by the hammer. It was a violent assault. On studying the damage, I found several more rounded blows staged to adjoin, to look more like one hit from the branch. The facial bones, the nose, and the brow ridge of the skull were crushed. This took force. But it probably didn't require a Bigfoot to do that. Grant, you're a big man. If you went really ape with anger, especially, you could do that, or Morgan here could; maybe any of us. There are plenty of men large enough for that. Probably'd take a big man, though, so I pretty much rule out a female assailant, unless we discover a circus sideshow-strong female. Women often lose their tempers and might go wild in an assault, but they'd have to truly hate someone to do this. They usually prefer more subtle forms of murder, too, like poison. This was likely done to deceive, not in real anger. But it may have been done to please someone's lust to disfigure others to achieve and feel power. "

Other victims showed similar damage, and Merrill explained that the ripped out joints were probably the work of a large gardening tool, like a sharp pruning hook in powerful hands. "And I think that this rent was probably inflicted with a small chainsaw," he concluded, gesturing to a horrible injury on the bald man, once named Mike Dithers.

They continued to examine the victims, with detailed observations from the examiner, who was clearly disgusted with what he was explaining.

"Doctor, you've been very informative and insightful," said Hotchner finally. "Thank you for your expertise. I think we can reach some useful conclusions based on what we saw here today."

"I'm glad, then," said the M.E. "If I can help to get whoever did this off the street and help give closure to the victims' families…"

XXX

At the high school, Blacklaws and Seaver picked up Tessa Cassidy and chatted with her on the way to her home. She looked admiringly at the tall deputy, to Seaver's mild pique. Tessa seemed thrilled to be the center of attention, but she could tell the officers nothing significant about her missing sibling.

XXX

Nor were Rossi and Jareau successful in discovering any clues at the junior college, although they noted which teachers the missing girls had in common and interviewed them and selected students for several hours.

"But," observed Rossi dejectedly," they weren't really together in any of these classes, and those professors teach a lot of students. "

Jareau closed her tablet in despair. "Let's go get a cheeseburger. That'd at least be accomplishing something useful."

Rossi smiled. "That's my girl. An agent after my own heart. We'll call Hotch after we eat."

XXX

Winston Hso was the sheriff's chief computer specialist as well as a sworn deputy. He was entering data about an unrelated case when he decided to run a routine scan to ensure there were no signs of hacking or tampering with the programs. He clattered the keyboard, glancing at the monitor to be sure that no anomalies or unexplained entries were present. He was very proud of the anti-virus, anti-malware program, which was his own work, devised during his senior year at Rice University in Houston. He was on the verge of perfecting and patenting this and hoped that licensing it would make him a wealthy man.

He was startled to see unauthorized entries and checked them, finding that they led to a blind trail, designed to disguise a hacking effort. Someone was into their computer!

He looked up and saw Undersheriff Knowles walking down the hall and called him over.

"Boss, you gotta see this," he said. "We're being hacked, and whoever this is, is really good."

Knowles watched for a moment as they deduced which files were being invaded and then asked, "Winston, can you catch this son of a bitch? "

"I think so," said the Chinese-American genius. "I'm already backtracking and have bypassed the cut-out servers designed to obfuscate the issue. Hell, this traces to an FBI computer! But it's not in Seattle or Spokane. It's in Quantico, VA. I can get you the IP number and other data, but you'll have to get the rest from them, I think. We'd better tell the sheriff."

Knowles reflected. "He's still with Hotchner and that grouchy black guy, Morgan, over at the M.E.'s office. I'll ask him to step away from them and take a private call."

And he reached for his cell phone.


End file.
